2: 2
Dr. Matthews was surprised by what I asked for, but he pulled up the file and turned the screen toward me anyway.
The father's line read, in plain letters, Arthur. There was nothing left to lie to myself about.
A bitter laugh escaped me. When I'd found out she was pregnant, I'd been overjoyed, certain the baby was a gift heaven had given us.
I never imagined the truth was that behind my back she'd gotten pregnant with my best friend's child.
If I hadn't found out, I'd have spent the rest of my life raising it for them.
Back home, my mother-in-law glanced at me from the kitchen,
then launched into her usual scolding.
"Where have you been? You useless idiot. My daughter got the short end of the stick with you!"
I changed out of my shoes and stood up.
For once I didn't lower my eyes and apologize the way I always did.
Instead I looked straight at her.
"Do you know where Isabel went?"
She froze for a second, something uneasy flickering in her eyes.
"Where else? Work, obviously. You think it's easy, feeding a freeloader like you?"
"Sitting around all day with too much time to imagine things. Come wash your hands and eat."
Strange. Slow as I've always been, this time it hit me at once: she knew too.
I was the only one being kept in the dark.
I sat down at the table, numb, while she kept muttering.
I wanted to argue that I wasn't a freeloader. I didn't have a job, but my brush never stopped, and I earned more from my commissions than Isabel did as a captain.
It hurt me to watch her flying everywhere, wearing herself out, so after we registered the marriage I'd put all my commission money into the household, bought her nice clothes, paid for the premium wellness supplements and collagen tonics my mother-in-law lived on all year round.
But in this house I'd grown used to silence, and in the end I said nothing at all.
I ate without tasting any of it, then went to the kitchen to wash the dishes myself.
The pain in my stomach was getting worse, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
I dragged through it in a daze until three the next afternoon.
Isabel pushed the door open, Arthur following in behind her, grinning as he greeted me.
"Hey, man, I'm here. Came to see you, and my godson while I'm at it."
Isabel changed her shoes at the entryway, then reached over and tucked Arthur's sneakers into the closet for him.
She smiled and explained,
"Ran into Arthur right as I got out of the airport. He kept insisting he hadn't seen you in ages and made a fuss about tagging along."
I gave her a perfunctory glance, but there was no warmth in my eyes.
The day we registered our marriage, I'd teased her to put my shoes away in the rack for me, and she'd snapped, annoyed, "Don't you have hands, Ulysses? Your shoes are filthy, put them away yourself."
I'd thought she just had a thing about cleanliness. It never occurred to me she simply found me dirty.
Isabel came over and squeezed my hand.
"I know you've always wanted a wedding, so I had Arthur use AI to make some wedding photos of us."
She pulled a stack of photos out of her briefcase and handed them to me.
"Once I've had the baby, we'll go take the real ones."
I took them and flipped through. Arthur's face had been swapped out for mine. Nothing else had changed.
Really thought she could soothe me like I was some fool.
I drew a slow breath and lifted my head, looking straight into her eyes.
"What kind of AI makes an image this convincing, right down to the mole on his neck being exactly the same as Arthur's?"
